Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Red Eye.

A/N: Just a little one-shot that has been kicking around in my head for awhile and finally demanded to be written. For anyone out there who might still be interested in Death and Taxes, I've started working on it again after a long hiatus, so I will try to update it soon!

--

The door slides slowly open and Lisa steps through, snatching a blue plastic basket from the stack precariously balanced just inside. The cold interior of the grocery store is a welcome relief from the sticky summer air. She extracts a crumpled paper from the pocket of her jean shorts and wanders up and down the aisles, running shoes squeaking on the tiled floor. She doesn't need long to find all of the items on her list and is shortly in the produce section, seeking out one final ingredient. Rifling through the box of potatoes, she feels suddenly uncomfortable, although she can't quite put a finger on any particular reason. It is then that she realizes that the figure standing opposite her has not moved for several seconds.

Lisa glances up and finds herself staring into a pair of icy blue eyes. Icy blue eyes that hold the slightest flicker of surprise, before the mask settles firmly into place. Icy blue eyes that she would recognize anywhere and has desperately hoped to never see again. A potato slips from her fingers, landing unnoticed among its fellows with a gentle thud.

Jackson grins.

"Fancy seeing you here, Leese."

For several seconds, Lisa is unable to form a reply. Her chest tightens and she clutches the handle of the basket as though it might offer some form of protection.

"What are you doing here?" she finally manages, momentarily pleased that she is able to keep her voice from shaking.

Jackson glances around before meeting her eyes again, raising his eyebrows.

"Shopping."

"Oh, right," Lisa huffs, gladly allowing fear to give way to anger and disbelief. "You're just buying groceries."

"Sure," Jackson replies, smirking ever so slightly. "I do eat, you know."

Lisa glares at him, certain that this encounter is in no way an accident. Aside from his history of following her every move, her image of Jackson does not include anything as mundane as grocery shopping. "How did you find me?"

"I didn't." He shrugs. "I didn't even know you were in Atlanta." He studies her curiously. "Do you live here now?"

For a moment, Lisa internally debates the merits and risks of telling the truth, then blurts: "No, just visiting a friend."

If Jackson notices her hesitation, he doesn't comment, although he does glance at her basket of groceries.

"Do you normally buy groceries while visiting friends?"

"I'm making dinner," she snaps, irritated with herself for engaging with him almost as much as with him for being there. "So, if you don't mind, I'll be on my way." She turns and has taken two steps towards the register when his voice interrupts her.

"You forgot the potatoes." She spins back to face him.

"What?"

"Potatoes." He gestures towards the vegetable stand. Lisa glances down at her basket, realizing that he is, in fact, correct. Her eyes shoot to his and he stares back, something resembling amusement evident in his expression.

"What do you want?" She regrets the words the second they are past her lips.

"Nothing." When no reply comes, Jackson continues. "I told you, I'm just buying groceries. I didn't come here for you, Leese. This is complete coincidence."

"Coincidence?" Lisa looks at him incredulously. "You followed me for all those weeks and you expect me to believe that this is coincidence?"

Jackson smiles wryly. "I suppose that's fair. But that was then. I'm not following you now."

"Why should I believe that? How do I know this isn't a part of some insane plot?"

Jackson shrugs. "You don't. But it isn't. I actually quit."

There is a pause as Lisa struggles to process this new piece of information.

"You quit?"

"Isn't that what I just said?" Jackson smirks again. "For a smart girl, Leese, you're having trouble keeping up with this conversation."

"You know what, Jackson? I don't know what your problem is or what you're trying to prove and, frankly, I don't care. You don't want anything from me? Great. So why are you still here?"

Jackson gestures towards a stand of apples. "Groceries, remember?"

Lisa glares.

"Stop looking at me like that, Lisa. Your face will get stuck that way." He sighs and raises his eyebrows. "What will it take to convince you, Leese? I'll do whatever you want."

"Leave."

"Is that what you want?" Jackson's face betrays no emotion.

Lisa hesitates for a split second. "Yes," she whispers, not trusting her voice at a louder volume.

"Okay then." Jackson steps away from her, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Leaving."

--

Once he is gone, Lisa takes a deep breath and turns back to the potatoes, trying to focus on whatever she had intended to make for dinner. After a moment of futile pondering, she gives up on further groceries and spins towards the cashiers, only to find Jackson standing a few mere inches away.

"You said..." she begins, tone accusatory.

"I know, I know," he retorts quickly, holding his hands up in surrender. "I just wanted to give you something. And then I'm leaving, I promise." He steps closer and, before she can bolt, presses something small into her free hand. He never stops moving, crossing behind her and, true to his word, straight to the exit. He steps through the sliding door and disappears without a backwards glance. Lisa glances down at the paper in her hand. Scrawled on the white background is a ten-digit number and, beneath that, two small words: your move.